you couldn't have loved me better
by cyclothimic
Summary: the six times felicity and oliver said goodbye to each other - with and without words.
**i just had to write something to this song because it's so beautiful and heartbreaking and i hate arrow did i mention i hate arrow wtfffff**

* * *

 _Remember all the things we wanted_

 _Now all our memories, they're haunted_

 _We were always meant to say goodbye_

 _-Already Gone, Sleeping At Last_

* * *

She hadn't shown up at the lair for two days. Oliver had given her and Digg some time off, claiming that Merlyn was now dead anyway, they deserved to have a break. But Felicity could see the look on his face, identify the darkness clouding his eyes and the bleakness in his voice and the way his head hung lower than usual and how his shoulders slouched into an unrecognizable almost Quasimodo pattern.

He needed a break himself. He had lost almost everything he held precious in his life. His romance with Laurel was doomed when Tommy, his best friend, exhaled his last breath with a metal poking out of his chest. His stepfather, Walter, whom he had grown to accept, had decided to divorce his mother. There were probably still a thousand lies that his parents had kept buried that he was yet to find out.

So she had agreed, because honestly, she needed more than a pint of mint chip ice cream and disassembled laptop to put herself back together after being trapped underground a shaking city that might collapse on her had Detective Lance not been there to disable the machines. She spent two days cooped up in her apartment, reassuring her parents and friends that she was fine and alive and no they did not need to come by because she needed a few days to herself.

Imagine her surprise when her phone buzzed on her bedside table in the middle of the night two days after her well-deserved break from everything. She was halfway determined to just ignore it, until she saw Oliver's name illuminating her screen. And she couldn't not answer it.

"Oliver?" she mumbled, fighting the sleep from seeping into her voice.

"Hey, Felicity," he greeted. Even in her sleep muddled mind, she could still clearly detect the dejection in his voice. He was hardly trying. She briefly wondered what it meant that she could hear and identify tones of his voice so easily. "Sorry that I woke you up."

Crap. "No, no, it's fine." She pushed herself up to a sitting position and looked out her window. The moon was bright and round tonight. "What's going on, Oliver?"

"I just want to know how you've been doing."

She reluctantly smiled. "Well, I've put on a pound or two from all the ice cream I've been ingesting since that night." Her smile was no longer reluctant when she heard him chuckle, however bitter it sounded. "And uh…I'm looking for safe place to stay because apparently, staying near Glades but not in the Glades don't really make it any safer."

"You live where now?"

Her eyes widened when she realized what she had just said. Goddammit, this was why she should never talk when she hadn't gotten enough sleep and it was her crush she was talking to. She smacked herself in the forehead and laughed nervously. "Oh, never mind what I said." Considering that had happened, Oliver must be in overprotective mode right now. "What I mean to say is that I'm doing as well as I can, considering."

There was a long pause. And then he said, "Okay." Another pause. "That's good." He cleared his throat. "Well, I should probably let you sleep."

"Are you okay, Oliver?" His silence for the next 60 seconds told her everything. "It's not your fault, Oliver."

He didn't believe her. She didn't even need five seconds to deduce that when he just dismissed her by saying, "Goodbye, Felicity."

She frowned. For some reason, she had the vibe that he wasn't just saying goodbye but that he was saying _goodbye_. "Oliver."

"Sleep tight."

Before she could pursue further, he had hung up on her. She stared at her phone, torn between calling him back and assuming her instinct was wrong – her instinct was never wrong. But then she and Oliver weren't that close so maybe she should just leave it. She plugged her phone to her charger and went back to sleep.

In the morning, she woke up to five messages by Digg and a lump sum of money in her bank account, funded by an anonymous person. When she tracked the traces, it led back to Oliver Queen, who had gone missing.

* * *

She never meant to fall in love with Oliver Queen, of all people. Everybody who had dwelled enough in the business and the gossip sections of the newspaper would know that Oliver Queen was anything but reliable in terms of his romances.

Sure, Felicity had thought that he was pretty much the most beautiful man she had ever laid eyes on in her entire life – anyone with functioning eyes would never be able to get past those blue, _blue_ eyes – but she had expected to end up _here_ , in the oddest impasse that she could ever find herself in.

It started as a simple crush that she was certain would pass when she spent more time with him and knew him better and understood that he wasn't her type, except he turned out to be _exactly_ her type: broody and guilt ridden and sweet and responsible - sometimes _too_ responsible – and man, him on that salmon ladder. And then as she grew to learn him, she fell for his charms, his quietness, his darkness, his scars; every single bitter thing about him that _made_ him.

Felicity warned herself against falling for someone like Oliver Queen and she failed.

And now, she was here, standing in Oliver's secret, _secret_ lair, staring at him as he sat in a desolate corner. She tried to ignore the way his muscles bulged under his white shirt and his scruffy beard, focusing on the fool that he was to think that it would all be over if he handed himself over to Slade Wilson.

When Oliver had gone MIA again, she had gone amok with worry and a slight understanding, because once again, he lost his mother, another one of the most important people in his life. Despite her diabolical character, she couldn't deny that Moira Queen was only doing what she thought was right for her children. And then on the third day, Felicity let herself be angry because _how dare he_ do this to her and Diggle again.

"I don't accept that," she snapped, holding onto his hand to stop his advance towards the exit. "You _can't_ just _accept_ things, Oliver." Because she knew more than enough that settling with _accepting_ was one of the worst ways to go on with life. She had Oliver to thank for that. And she _needed_ him to see it. "There has to be another way."

He turned back around and focused on her. Normally, it would have felt amazing to be the center of his attention, but not like this, not when he was just about to raise the white flag after all that they had ever done was refusing to raise the white flag. She resisted the urge to pull on his hand and lock him in a cell until he got to his senses.

He sighed, "There isn't."

Her tight grip on his wrist was easily loosened as he walked away from them.

* * *

Felicity didn't think it was possible for one to hate and love at the same time. But right now, as she stood before Oliver, her face held in his hands and their faces only a breadth apart, she had never hated him as much as she did now; yet she had never loved him as much as she did now.

 _There's a thin line between love and hate_. They had proven that phrase true. He was the man she had managed to suction into her orbit but couldn't release. He was the addictive drug she couldn't cut because it was a sensation she had never experienced before and she never wanted to forget that. He was the most courageous and darkest man she had ever had the opportunity to encounter and she was besotted with him. He was also the man who filled her with scorching contempt because how dare he enter her life with a broken laptop and a charming smile and latch onto her for the rest of her life. He was the most distasteful of scotch as he time and time again refused to release her from his clutches. He had taunted her with opportunities for her to have a chance with him and she had never once wanted to kill anyone for doing that until him.

Kissing him was like having her first kiss and it felt absolutely gratifying and she wanted to do it again, but she hated that he kissed her at all. How could he tell her that they couldn't ever be together and give her something as amazing as his kiss? How could he destroy her again and again and not realize that?

" _Don't ask me to say that I don't love you_." She wasn't asking. She _needed_ him to say it. It was probably the only way she could cut all ties. It was a balance awfully unbalanced, because to tell her that he love her but not be with her, it was the cruelest punishment she didn't deserve.

She gently pushed him away, unable to find any more strength to hold onto him. "I told you as soon as we talked –" Talking had rarely ever landed her in a good spot before "– it would be over."

And she spun her heels and strut away, because she wasn't sure if she'd be able to keep her composure as he stared at her with his blue eyes.

* * *

Felicity had thought Malcolm Merlyn was an untrustworthy villain since the day they found out that he was the Dark Archer. Now, she didn't see the bad side of grabbing one of Oliver's lethal arrows and stab the bastard through the chest and give it a twist just for the sake of it.

Pretending that Oliver was just merely suggesting – though they all knew that Oliver rarely ever _suggested_ anything – confronting Ra's Al Ghul to take the fall for his sister was the hardest thing she had ever done. Deep down, she knew that Oliver had already made up his mind, because that was just Oliver. Laurel Lance used to be his fatal point; now it was Thea.

Felicity Smoak was most probably the most optimistic person on Earth; just ask Team Arrow. She always thought there was another way and she wouldn't tolerate taking a life until there was no other choice. And in this situation, she didn't think there was any other choice.

"Kill him," she requested, barely able to comprehend those words leaving her lips, and judging by the look on his face, he didn't believe that she was capable of saying those words.

Ra's Al Ghul had done enough; she wasn't willing to lose Oliver for a girl she barely knew, selfish as that sounded.

"You have to kill him." The last thing she wanted was for Oliver to go back to his days of taking other lives with little to no regard. He had just barely came to his senses and found his way on a path that might not be right but was as right as it could be with what they were dealing with daily. She didn't want him to kill, but Ra's _had_ to go.

She didn't even realize she had moved forward until she ended her sentence and found herself craning her neck further to meet his eyes. Those damn eyes, the first thing that she noticed and the one thing about him that he couldn't hide from others, had given her such depth into his soul even when he was keeping himself closed. They were the window of her jumping out of her cage and falling for him.

"Felicity, I honestly don't know if I'm a killer anymore, but I do know two things." He shook his head minutely and smiled sadly at her. "The first is that whoever I am, I am someone who will do whatever – _whatever_ – it takes to save my sister."

She knew that. He had shown that his love for Thea went immeasurable distance countless times in the past. She expected him to tell her the second thing. But he just sighed and stepped forward. Her heart sped up as his lips neared and she thought he was going to kiss her. She released a quiet gasp when he pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead. Maybe this was better. Yeah.

And then he walked away.

"And the second thing?" she pursued. She had a feeling that it was essential for her to know.

He turned back around. She noticed the tense shift of his shoulders and the moroseness overtaking his expression. It took him a moment before it went away and he relaxed, as if he finally came to a conclusion he'd been trying to reach for a long time.

" _I love you_."

She twitched her fingers as she was left alone, speechless, watching him walk away from her.

* * *

He had whispered teasingly, "Hold onto me tight," into her ear with the most serious expression as he reached down to grab her thighs and haul her up. She was momentarily thrown into a déjà vu spiral until he reached the bed. And she forgot about her previous stupidities and unintended innuendos and valiant gawking and focused on _him_ , the love of her life.

Having sex, no, _making love_ with Oliver was sanctimonious and a form of awakening that she didn't even believe existed. His lips left traces that burned to her core; his hands left trails that seared with each puff of air; his entire being left a scorch that she would never attempt or want to get rid of. She had had a lot of sex before, casual or serious, but none had felt like _this_.

Oliver fell asleep to her hands brushing back his hair and her soft voice talking to him about the most trivial of things, because they were still unable to bring up the fact that she would be leaving and he would be staying and she could barely lie here and look at him without collapsing into a pool of tears.

As Felicity watched him sleep, she realized she loved it. She loved watching him sleep. She loved the way he was lying on his stomach, facing her with one arm curled around a pillow and another slung protectively over her hip. She loved being reassured that he was indeed alive by the way his back rise and fall rhythmically to his respiration. She loved that he never looked more peaceful that he did right now, with a serene smile across those lips that had kissed her senseless just fifteen minutes ago and his face free of any tightness.

And she couldn't lose him.

So she somehow came up with a plan that was more than her level of psychotic and honestly, how could she still afford to be surprised when it failed so spectacularly?

She stood there, watching him bidding farewell to his sister and his faux brother, her insides tearing apart with every passing second. It was _mean_ , all of it. Her hands were trembling and her knees were almost buckling while he turned towards her, staring down at her.

"The only way that I'm gonna survive this is if I know that you're out there living your life, happy," he said, his voice cracking somewhere along the way.

She clenched her jaw, willing herself to show a brave face. "We're always saying goodbye to each other. You'd think I'd be good at it by now." Trying to make it out to be a joke was probably insensitive but it was her only coping mechanism at this point.

When he leaned down to kiss her, she tried to convey everything she felt, the depth of her emotions, through that one kiss, because even though he didn't want to admit this was a goodbye, it _was_.

* * *

Getting married had never been on her to-do list. It was more of an if-it-happens-it-happens thing. While she may be optimistic and kind, she was absolutely _not_ hopeful. Watching her mother's marriage crumble had dashed her hopes to find a husband who would _stay_ , so she focused all her energy on the one thing she was best at: computer and codes.

Being away with Oliver: traveling the world and living the same place, it gave her hope once more; that maybe it was possible. Because one would be blind if they couldn't recognize that Oliver had always looked at her like he was the luckiest person on Earth to have scored her, and she couldn't be more grateful for his devotion; so devoted that he was willing to return to a place of darkness because she missed the freaking _action_.

Ending up in the wheelchair had reassured her that he truly did love her and wanted to marry her. Oliver Queen was the man she was working so hard for so she could walk down the aisle towards him. He was the man she wanted to raise her children with. He was the man she lost herself and found herself in.

She was sure.

But then it turned out he had hidden a son from her. Granted, he had the kid ten years ago with a woman she didn't know. Granted, he'd only known about William for just awhile. But what burned her wasn't that he had a _son_ , it was that he hid him from _her_.

They were supposed to be partners. She wanted to be the person he could share everything with and never see the need to hide anything _from_. She wanted, for once, for a man who was her family to not abandon or lie to her ever again.

When he sent William away, that was the last straw. How could she be with a man who could do the same thing to their children as her father di to her? She had sworn that were she to ever have kids, she would never abandon them under _any_ circumstances, and now she realized she was engaged to a man who might do the same.

So instead of taking her first steps to the man she had devoted her life to, she had taken them walking away from him.

It had ached her enough to work with him without being with him; to watch him put on the suit and not kiss him and ask him to come back to her; to not touch him as he passed her; or just to look at him and smile. And then he had to go and suggest that faux wedding with that charming smile of his.

 _How dare he_.

She had to admit that her resolve had broken when he stood there and said his vow with utmost sincerity. She honestly didn't know what she would do had Cupid not barge in like a woman scorned. She guessed she had the psychotic woman to thank for putting her mind back to its right place and making her realize that this could never work.

She was tired; deep-down-inside exhausted. She couldn't take any more men lying to her and leaving her. She couldn't take the being selfless all the time just so the people around could be happy. She couldn't take the having to turn her head around each time to make sure that her heart was safe.

She needed to be selfish for once. So she expelled all her heart's content to a person who didn't matter to her and lied to the spectator about it. Because, _god_ , every word she said had been true, she loved Oliver with everything in her. But she needed to be selfish.

Oliver may have given her life meaning. He may have given her life purpose. He may have changed her life for the better. He may have been the reason she wouldn't regret dying if she hadn't been able to convince Cupid to put down the bow. But all that didn't matter if she couldn't do the same for him.

Things needed to change. Things _couldn't_ change if he refused to. And she tried and she failed and only Oliver could change.

So she had to walk away, because if she didn't, she might not be able to handle the next time he decided to carelessly break her heart once more.

"I don't want to let you go."

"I don't want to let you go." If only things were as easy as wanting and not wanting. "But I am _already gone_."

* * *

 **it's okay to cry.**

 **(laurel lance is not dying kthxbye)**


End file.
